All the Roses Falling
by Psamathe
Summary: Sequel to 'Live to Tell'. A rewrite of Episode 3.8. Gene/Alex
1. Chapter 1

_"He didn't deserve a shallow grave, did he? Did he Alex?"_

_"No… no you didn't."_

_He found himself thinking of his mum, his brother… shit, even his twat of a father. There had been a girl… Marjory? Moira? Mary? They had fumbled together down by the canal. She hadd let him upstairs, inside… the first one… the only one._

_They never knew what happened. Son, brother, lover… vanished._

_Memories, flooding back…_

_"Why didn't you tell me?"_

_She stepped towards him, crying the tears that hadn't been shed over his grave._

_"I forgot… I forgot everything. And do you know what… I wish I still had."_

_"It's all right," she whispered, holding him tight. He felt her lips caress his cheek. _

_Turning his head, he captured her mouth with his own. He needed this, needed her. The sweet surrender of her body against his shocked him to the core. He'd never thought she would feel like this... the softness of her breast under his hand, the warmth of her body as she pressed against him. _

_As gently has he could, he lowered them both to the floor. _

/\/\/\/\/\

This wasn't the way he had planned it. There had been no dancing, no champagne, no posh hotel room… a hard floor covered with a dusty blanket had served for their bed.

"It'll be getting dark soon, " she murmured, stating the bloody obvious as always.

"I'm not about to start skipping about under the stars, or watching moonrises."

She giggled, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"You cold?" he asked.

"No, why?"

"I just wondered why you were in such a hurry to get your clothes back on?"

"Someone might come."

"Someone already has… in fact someone scored a hat trick… and it weren't me."

She grinned at him and Gene realised that he had every right to be proud of himself.

"You have unexpected talents, Mr. Hunt, ones that I am not about to share."

He approved of that. Running his hand from her breast to her arse Gene realised that he didn't want to share either. But even the risk of being discovered in flagrante wasn't enough for him to contemplate moving… at least not yet. He hadn't felt this way about any woman since the first heady years of his marriage… his wife… had she been another lost soul or had she been a construct of this world? A figure conjured up by his imagination to help combat the loneliness.

Gene pulled Alex closer, wanting to feel more of her skin pressed against his own. These moments were precious to him. Bittersweet. With the return of his memories had come the certain knowledge that he couldn't keep her here with him forever. She, like the others, deserved the chance to move on. Perhaps he'd been selfish to give in to his desires, but he knew with certainty that she had wanted it too. Still did, judging by the way her fingers were stroking circles on his chest, drifting lower. Taking her caress as an invitation, Gene rolled over, settling himself between her welcoming thighs.

"Beautiful," he whispered as he looked down at her. The single word caused her face to light up. Gene couldn't understand how she could have any doubts.

Was this love? Gene didn't know. Or at least he wasn't prepared to admit it. Love made you vulnerable, and falling out of love was even worse. Alex already knew too much about him and he wasn't quite ready to give her his heart. His mind still held onto the nagging doubt that this was nothing more than a pity fuck.

Although, looking down at her now, her face flushed, her eyes shining, he didn't think she could possibly be faking it. But what did he know? The only women he had ever been with were part of this world.

"We could find a hotel for the night," she suggested.

He was sorely tempted, but the burden of his responsibilities came crashing back down. They'd already been gone for too long.

"Best get back," he sighed, "and make sure Fenchurch East is still standing."

"Ray it more than capable of…"

Her voice started to rise in both volume and pitch, signs that they were rapidly heading towards a blazing row. However, Gene now had a new way to shut her up. Bending down, he kissed the argument right out of her.

"Alex, I'd rather you didn't mention Ray when you've got your tits out… it's putting me off me stride."

The last thing Gene expected as his statement to be met by a round of applause. He scrambled up, instinctively hiding Alex's body with his own, watching in apprehension as Jim Keats stepped out of the shadows.

'This is beautiful…"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

_"Club Tropicana, drinks are free._

_Fun and sunshine, there's enough for everyone._

_All that's missing is the sea,_

_But don't worry, you can suntan!"_

Alex gritted her teeth. She'd hated the song the first time around and it didn't improve with time… or with volume. But even Wham's worst did little to hide the roar of the Quattro's engine. With its owner relegated to the passenger seat, it sounded as if the much-loved vehicle was protesting. Shivering, Alex pulled her coat closer, wishing that Gene were also in the back seat keeping her warm. The darkness outside was oppressive. She couldn't pick out any familiar landmarks as they sped down the M1.

Cold, hungry, tired, Alex wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a hot meal… but she had the feeling that the night was far from over.

"What a song!" Keats exclaimed joyfully. "I love this car!"

She glanced at Gene, waiting, hoping for a reaction but he just took another pull at his flask. He looked as if he was set on drinking himself to oblivion as quickly as possible but Alex doubted there was enough whiskey in the car for him to achieve that goal.

He didn't deserve this.

Alex reached forward between the seats trying to take his free hand, but he ignored her, refusing to respond to her caress. She drew her hand back. Alex looked down seeing the dirt on her fingers, the torn nails from where she'd dug into the earth. She'd wanted the truth, but her heart was being ripped in two.

"I think we should listen to this over and over again all of the way home!"

_"Castaways and lover's meet, then kiss in Tropicana's heat…"_

'I'm doing this for Molly,' Alex kept repeating to herself, 'She can't be without me. I'm doing this for Molly.'

Even that knowledge did little to help her state of mind. Something didn't feel right. Her last view of the real world had been a hospital room. She'd seen herself lying in that bed with no sign of a gunshot wound. There hadn't been anyone with her.

And then there had been the dream… the uniform had been the same but Molly had been older. How much time had passed? Hours? Months? Years? Unbidden a tear stole down her cheek. She'd never felt so alone. This world had proved to be more than she ever imagined. And Gene Hunt's place in it more complex. He had grown up here and become the man she had fallen for.

It all made sense now. If Gene Hunt was attracted to the dying, it wasn't for the reasons that Keats had intimated.

She remembered Sally, the stripper from Hyde, Super Mac, Martin Summers… Gene had been there as they died; offering comfort as they passed over to what Alex as sure was a better place. Viv? Oh God, had he been in time to save Viv? Keats had got there first. There had been no peace, no reassurance…. Viv had died in fear. Gene had known that… at some level, he had known. The tears were falling in earnest now. Small, ugly noises escaping from her throat.

"Shhhh… It's all right to cry, Alex. You've been through so much," Keats' voice was soft, but she knew now that the comfort he offered was meaningless.

"Don't you talk to me!" Alex sobbed.

Gene hated it when she cried. He would think she was weak, pathetic but to her surprise he seemed to have roused himself from his stupor.

"Stop the car," he said, quietly.

"Club Tropicana drinks are free. Fun and sunshine, there's enough for everyone," Keats sang at the top of his voice. "Sing along Gene!"

"I said stop the fucking car!"

Gene reached across to grab the steering wheel but before he could take control, Keats slammed on the brakes, sending Gene flying forwards. Luckily he managed to brace himself on the dashboard and stop himself crashing through the windscreen.

"Don't do that again," Keats hissed. "You wouldn't want to cause an accident, would you? Some one might get hurt… or killed… and what would happen then?"

Ignoring Keats, Gene somehow managed to scramble into the back seat. The car took off with a screech throwing him onto Alex, almost crushing the breath out of her, but only for a moment. He quickly pulled himself up and over to the far side of the seat. Alex lay there for a moment, as she tried to get her breath back. Then she crawled closer to Gene, letting him put a comforting arm about her shoulders.

"Don't cry, Bols," he whispered as he handed her the flask.

"I'm not."

Alex took a sip, grateful for the liquid warmth. There was silence for a moment whilst Keats rewound the tape. Then the music started again.

_"Let me take you to a place, where membership's a smiling face ..."_

/\/\/\/\

Lyrics to 'Club Tropicana' by George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley.


	2. Chapter 2

It was over. His body was battered and broken, but Gene Hunt would never let anyone know how much pain he was in. So he stood tall as he led his team through the cold, dark streets, towards the welcoming glow of the Railway Arms.

He watched as Ray, Chris and Shaz walked through the doors wondering if he'd ever see their like again. And Bolly… she was standing beside him, glowing with happiness at the realisation that her job here was done. He hated the fact that he was about to break her heart. For all of the time he'd known her, Alex Drake had clung onto the fact that somehow she was going to get home, that she would see her daughter again.

'That's it, I help bring them here with you… I can go home Gene!" she smiled up at him. Gene knew he was seeing her at her most beautiful. Coward that he was he couldn't bring himself to reply. He met her eyes, hoping that she'd see the truth. Then her face fell as realisation hit.

"No! I'm lying in a hospital bed!"

Shit, she was crying again.

"Come here Bols."

He pulled her into his arms, trying in his own way to comfort her.

"Molly… my baby," she sobbed against him.

"I know," Gene whispered into her hair. "Way of the world, Alex. She'll be fine."

It was a lie. There might come a day when Molly would accept her mother's death but the process of healing would be a long and painful one. They both knew it.

Eventually Alex's sobs became quieter and she pulled away from him.

"See you around Bollykecks," he said.

"You promised to take me dancing Gene," she offered him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Gene frowned, not quite sure what she meant.

"No music," he replied, certain that she was still deliberately trying to confuse him.

"We don't need it."

The next thing he knew, she had guided his arms about her. Gently she began to sway against him. Gene knew that any protests he might make would be ignored but he felt like a complete twat. The city was silent. Gene couldn't hear anything except the beating of his own heart.

"Alex," he warned. As much as he might have liked to, they couldn't stay here forever. He wished more than anything that he could go with her, but it wasn't his time. There were still things to learn, adventures to have. This life wasn't perfect but it was all he had.

"I know. I have to go… just a few more minutes…"

He pulled back just so that he could fix her face in his memory, not wanting to forget.

"Get one in for me as well."

Her hand drifted to the back of his neck as she tugged him closer for one last desperate kiss. Gene let his eyes drift shut, wanting to savour the moment…

… when the crack of a gunshot shattered the silence of the night and Alex's body became a dead weight in his arms. Gene clutched at her as she fell, collapsing to his knees in his efforts to stop her from hitting the ground. The raw ache in his throat told him that he must have screamed her name but he had no memory of making a sound.

The next thing he was aware of was footsteps echoing in the empty street, the shadow falling over them. Gene had no words to express his hatred for the man standing with the smoking gun. If he hadn't held Alex's dying body in his arms, he would have beaten Keats to death with his bare hands.

"How did you think this would end, Hunt? With everyone living happily ever after? Marriage, triplets and a three bed-roomed house in Hounslow? This is her fault. She weakened you. "

"No!"

Alex stirred against him. Her eyes fluttering open.

"That's it Alex, love, stay with me," Gene urged.

"There's only one way she's getting in there."

The door to the pub was only a few metres away… too far for Alex to walk unaided. And Gene knew that if he let her go then Keats would take her.

But if Gene took Alex into the Railway Arms, there would be no coming back. This carefully constructed world would pass into the hands of Jim Keats. Gene couldn't let that happen… but he couldn't give him Alex.

"Gene?" her voice was so quiet that he almost missed her plea. "You're needed here. Don't let him … don't let him…"

Blood dribbled out of her mouth as she spoke. The effort was killing her. Gene knew then that he had lost. Ignoring her protests, Gene scooped Alex up into his arms and started walking towards the pub.

"I can't go in there!" she choked.

"Yes, you can," he whispered into her hair. "They've got a saloon bar."

She made a feeble effort to hit him, but he barely felt the impact of her fists. The door was ten paces away… nine… eight… Hysterical laughter tore through the night. Gene refused to look back at Keats as he stumbled under Alex's dead weight as she lost her fight with consciousness. His clothes were wet with her blood. Two more steps… they were going to make it. Shifting Alex in his arms, Gene reached out to open the door when a second shot rang out.

Gene collapsed with a cry as the bullet tore through his thigh. He fell to his knees, Alex spilling out of his arms and onto the unforgiving concrete…

"You've already won, bastard!" he hissed, one hand clutching hold of Alex, the other trying to stem the flow of blood from his own body.

"Not enough. I don't just want your world… I want her… and then you."

Keats stood over them, the gun still held loosely in his hand. With a shout of laughter he drove his boot into Gene's gut. The smirk on his face was sickening. Close… so fucking close. Gene would have gladly sacrificed himself for Alex, but he knew that wasn't possible, not anymore. The little shit would take Alex first and there was nothing he could do about it. Keats kicked him again, stamping on the arm that still held Alex's hand, but still Gene refused to let go.

A shout of laughter went up from the pub behind them. Loud enough that Keats was distracted for a second and Gen took his chance. Using his good leg, he kicked Keats in the balls. He took a certain amount of grim satisfaction in watching the man drop like a stone. The gun clattered across the pavement, disappearing in the darkness. Gene went after it, only realising his mistake as his had closed around the cool metal. Keats didn't want the gun… he wanted Alex. Bending over her prone form, he had taken her head in his hands.

Gene tried to get to his feet but at first his legs wouldn't support him. Even when he had managed to stagger a few steps, his hands were shaking as he attempted to take aim.

"Hello Jimbo," he said, hating the weakness in his voice.

Involuntarily, Keats looked up.

"Goodbye Jimbo."

Gene squeezed the trigger, emptying the remaining rounds into that hated face.

He thought he was too late to save Alex. By the time he had managed to crawl to her side, he thought that she couldn't possibly have any blood left in her body. It was only as he gathered her in his arms and kissed her silent lips that he realised there was still warmth within her.

"Gene?" she whispered.

"I'm here," he replied.

He shouldn't be feeling this weak, he realised. There was blood… too much blood to just belong to Alex. His leg was a mess, and Gene realised with cold certainty that the bullet must have nicked an artery. He was dying from a gunshot wound… the irony of the situation didn't escape him. This wasn't the first time he had died.

It was different.

Last time there hadn't been any pain. The shot to the head had been a quick and easy death. All he'd felt was a brief flash of fear, before anger had overwhelmed him. He remembered that much. Now he realised that he wasn't angry anymore. Alex was with him. If it all ended here, with her, then so be it.

Almost without thinking, Gene shifted her in his embrace, making them both more comfortable. Words she had spoken so long ago came back to him with startling clarity. This didn't need to be about pain. She was barely conscious, barely breathing, but Gene knew what he had to say. Leaning closer, he whispered three words in her ear. A slight catch in her breath was the only sign that she had heard him, but it was enough.

He was at peace. He could let go. Gene closed his eyes as he heard a familiar voice…

"All right Guv?"


	3. Chapter 3

_"Easy… easy Guv… the ambulance will be here soon."_

_"Take her!"_

_"I can't."_

_"Tyler, you great twat…"_

_"Gene… it's not her time. You know that. She's not ready."_

_"She leaves when I say so! Which is now!"_

_"I know you want to keep her safe…"_

_"What… what if she forgets?"_

"Come on Sleeping Beauty, we're home."

Alex's eyes snapped open. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the last traces of her dream. It was difficult to believe that she was sitting safe and warm in Gene's car and not bleeding to death on a cold street. The pain of her healing wounds was a poignant reminder of how close she'd come to dying but Alex had come to accept that she might never recall the exact details. She'd seen it night after night in her dreams, only for them to fade come morning. It was bloody frustrating. Alex was sure she had forgotten something important.

She'd had a lot of time to think during the days she had spent in hospital. Most of her thoughts had been occupied with the man who was currently holding the door open for her. With a groan, Alex let Gene Hunt help her out of the car.

"Alright?" he questioned as she stood still for a moment.

"Yes… no," she admitted.

"Make up your mind."

"Headache."

Alex was reluctantly coming to the conclusion that she wasn't as well as she had thought. Climbing the stairs up to her flat seemed like too much effort and she was grateful when Gene slipped his arm about her waist to support her. Alex was all too aware that he hadn't escaped unscathed. There was a slight hesitation to his walk. A limp that became more pronounced as he helped her up the stairs. Not for the first time, Alex realised that they would always bear the scars of Jim Keats' betrayal.

It felt strange to walk back into the flat as if nothing had every happened. The place felt cold, unlived in, and Alex shivered as Gene set her down on the sofa. She got up straight away, intending to put the heating on, only to find Gene blocking her path.

"Easy love," he said, "What do you need?"

Alex frowned. He'd been using that term of endearment a lot recently and not in a condescending fashion. What was she missing?

"Cold," she admitted.

"Alright, get yourself into bed and I'll make you a brew. How does that sound?"

"That sounds… good… thank you."

Something was definitely wrong. The last time Gene had offered to make her tea it had been 1981 and she'd been dressed like a prostitute. Surprised and confused by his behaviour, Alex let him help her through to the bedroom. She was sorely tempted to crawl under the duvet as she was, but Alex decided that if she tried Gene would just do the undressing for her.

"Tea?" she prompted as he stood there watching her.

"Right, yes… back in a minute."

Ten minutes later, Alex wished that she had asked him to stay. The effort of taking her clothes off and putting her pyjamas on had left her weak and shaking. Not to mention the fact that she couldn't seem to get her bra off. Reaching round her back to undo the clasp hurt more than she cared to admit. And however much she wriggled she couldn't manage to get it off any other way. The additional discomfort of the underwire digging into her was almost enough to make her cry. She was sobbing in frustration when Gene finally came back into the room.

He didn't say anything, just put the mug he was holding down on the dressing table, before moving to help her. With more ease that she felt entirely comfortable with, he undid her bra. She felt him pause, his breath warm on her neck and for one insane moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Then she felt his hand brush against the livid scar tissue.

"I'll never forgive that bastard for what he did to you."

Alex was sorely tempted to slap his hand away but she was too busy clutching her bra over her breasts in an attempt to maintain was left of her modesty. His touch wasn't unwelcome, just surprising. So much so that she let him slip her pyjama top over her head without voicing any complaint. She was too busy trying to make sense of the voices in her head.

_"Bra opens front or back, Bols?"_

_"You will never, ever, ever know Guv."_

There was a slight smile on his face as he helped her into bed and tucked the duvet around her shoulders. He handed her the tea, steadying the mug as she took a sip of the strong, sweet liquid.

"Well?" she demanded, the slight embarrassment making her voice more strident than usual.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to make some kind of smutty remark?"

"Great tits Bols … will that do? "

To her disappointment, Alex felt herself go red… as Gene's smile became a fully fledged grin, but it didn't last long. The smile faded as he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead before saying.

"I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

_'So true, funny how it seems,_

_Always in time but never in line for dreams._

_Head over heels when toe to toe…_

Music, dancing… it had to be a dream, didn't it? She couldn't imagine Gene swaying to a slow song. Drunken dad type dancing maybe… Somehow Alex knew that if she let him go now she would never find out. And she didn't want to let him go.

"Stay," she said.

"Here?" Gene replied gesturing towards the bed.

"Yes… please, Gene."

"Okay."

Alex sat back and watched as he removed his jacket and boots… then after a moment's hesitation, his trousers and shirt. There was a moment of awkwardness as they tried to find a position comfortable enough to accommodate their respective injuries. Close enough to touch, but not enough to hurt. They were silent for a moment, each adjusting to the new closeness… except it wasn't new. The feeling of déjà vu was somehow stronger now.

"Gene," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Everything."

"Alex…"

"I need to remember."

He nodded, bringing her head to rest against his shoulder as he began to talk. For perhaps the first time in three years, Alex listened to him without interrupting. When he was done she kissed him softly on the mouth, happy in the knowledge that he had been completely honest and open with her. As she drifted off to sleep one last memory drifted into her mind. Gene's voice…

"Love you, Alex."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

They'd buried him on the hill, under the northern skies where he'd lived for all of his short life. There was no name on the grave. It was just a simple stone carved with the words 'Rest in Peace'. Two people stood there, soaked by rain that beat mercilessly on the unforgiving earth.

"Are you okay?" the woman said.

The man didn't reply, choosing instead to pull her close for a bruising kiss. She went willingly, clinging onto him with just as much passion. Looking at them, no one would believe that they had been together for more than two decades. When they finally broke apart, the woman stepped forward, placing a single white rose next to the stone.

"What now?" she asked.

"Now… now I think we need to go for a drink."

She nodded. It was time. Taking her hand, the man led her down the hill.


End file.
